


"In the Sunshine"

by farad



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for JoJo's Wonderful Daybook prompt, "wherever you're going, I'm going your way".  A rather different view of Chris and GotC</p>
            </blockquote>





	"In the Sunshine"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my awesome, hardworking betas, Adonnchaid, JoJo, and Huntersglenn, without whom this would be a lot more messy. All mistakes are my very own. 
> 
> Also thanks to Zeke Black and her thorough and fantastic transcripts of the episodes, without which, this particular story would make no sense.

" _Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead._ "  
Louisa May Alcott

 

 

 

_From "Ghosts of the Confederacy":_

 

_Vin goes inside the store and emerges carrying a rifle. Virgil Watson follows him._  
  
 _WATSON: You walk off with that rifle and you're fired._  
  
 _VIN: Hell, I'm probably gonna get myself killed. Now I got to worry about a new job, too._  
  
 _He meets Chris's watching eyes across the street. Chris tilts his head after the wagon and Vin nods. They meet up in the middle of the street and follow the wagon together._

 

The smoke of the small cigar burned in the back of his throat, a reminder of the commitment he had made, of the lives he had lost because of his own distraction. But as he stared across the street into eyes so blue and large, the bite of the smoke wasn't as harsh as he was used to. In fact, for a few seconds, he almost forgot it.

 

He hadn't meant to move, but he tilted his head, as much to study this creature before him, the one with the long hair and pretty face, the one who he had seen just a little while ago, before he'd gone into the saloon. The boy had been standing on the boardwalk with a broom in his hands and a woman's apron around his lean body.

 

The eyes he stared into now weren't those of a shopkeeper or a boy who'd lived his life in books. These were the eyes of a man, one who knew what he was getting into - and one who was doing it anyway.

 

He was startled at the nod, as if they had reached an accord. But as the man with the rifle and the sky-blue eyes stepped off the boardwalk, Chris understood; he'd suggested walking down to stop the hanging, and this man, the one with the world of experience, had been planning to do it all along.

 

So maybe, Chris should, too. It was a better way to pay the debt than sucking in smoke.

 

*&*&*&*&

 

_NATHAN: One of y'all want to pull the knife out that fella? Cut me loose here?_  
  
 _Chris removes the noose from Nathan's neck while Vin cuts the ropes around his wrists and ankles. Mary approaches as they hoist Nathan to his feet._  
  
 _MARY: Gentlemen, I run the Clarion News. Where did you come from?_  
  
 _CHRIS: Saloon._  
  
 _They walk away from her._  
  
 _MARY: Hey, I, I want to talk to you. Where are you going?_  
  
 _CHRIS and VIN [and Nathan]: Saloon._

 

Chris had meant to go to the saloon – hell, he'd deserved a shot or two after getting into that fight. So it was just a coincidence that he was in the company of this Vin Tanner, former buffalo hunter, sharpshooter, and general do-gooder.

 

Do-gooder. Chris hated those. Do-gooders were people who thought they had a right to stick their nose in your business because they were 'helping'. Usually, they weren't – they were just interfering, believing that everyone should live the way they did.

 

But this man had been willing to pick up a gun to save a black man. Had been willing to stand up while bullets were flying to shoot the rope free of the tree before the black man – Nathan – was dead.

 

And now, he was walking down the road toward the saloon, this same black man along with them. Chris had expected that he would be the one standing next to Nathan at the bar, buying him a drink to soothe the pain of that tight rope around his throat. But Vin Tanner seemed to assume the same.

 

So he was following along in the man's wake, do-gooder that he was.

 

But then, Chris had drawn his gun as well. It wasn't do-gooding, the voice in his head reminded him. It was the least he could do to balance the debt.

 

He stepped through the doors of the saloon, grateful for the shadows.

 

*&*&*&*&*&*

 

_VIN: Hell, I was making five dollars a week at the hardware store without anybody shooting at me._  
  
 _CHRIS: Assuming we pay five dollars a head, that gets us all of seven men._  
  
 _NATHAN: The Seminoles put themselves on the line for many an escaped slave. They took us in when nobody else would. For five dollars, they can have a week of my life._  
  
 _VIN: Or all of it._  
  
 _He downs his shot of whiskey. Chris looks at him._  
  
 _VIN: [sighs] Hell, I wasn't planning on dying with a broom in my hand, anyway._  
  
 _Chris smiles. He puts the amulet into his pocket._  
  
 _CHRIS: [to Tastanagi] All right. Tomorrow afternoon, then._

 

The words, the promise, was out of his mouth before he even thought about it. He marveled at how easily it had come – a promise to help these men against invaders, a promise to help them protect their way of life.

 

To protect their families.

 

His stomach roiled and he put the shot of whiskey back down on the bar. He would have done it for nothing – hell, he knew that in truth, he was. But that wasn't what galled him, what made him want to slink away.

 

What made him wonder about himself was the fact that he hadn't jumped right out there and made his decision. He had waited until Tanner had committed first. Waited until the 'do-gooder' had once more stepped into the fire of his own conviction.

 

Chris tried to convince himself that he was testing the other man, seeing if he really was as 'good' as it seemed that he was. If he really was that naive and innocent and – damned determined. And he was.

 

Bastard.

 

 

_VIN: If they're asking for help from the white man, they're desperate. But how are we gonna find hired guns for five dollars?_  
  
 _NATHAN: I think I know a man who can help._  
  
 _CHRIS: I know one, too--if we can get him out of bed._

The thought of it made him smile. And it calmed the worry in his stomach. Buck was a do-gooder, too, but in a way Chris could understand. He would help out, and it wasn't about interfering. And it was also in ways that Chris could understand.

 

He shot back his drink as the ground under his feet solidified.

 

*&*&*&*&*&

 

_CHRIS: I got a job. You interested?_  
  
 _BUCK: Yeah? What's it pay?_  
  
 _CHRIS: Five dollars._  
  
 _BUCK: A day?_  
  
 _Chris shakes his head._  
  
 _BUCK: A week?_  
  
 _CHRIS: I know it ain't much._  
  
 _BUCK: How are the odds?_  
  
 _CHRIS: Three-, four-to-one._  
  
 _BUCK: Just our kind of fight. How'd you know I was here?_  
  
 _Vin joins them._  
  
 _CHRIS: I make a point of knowing who's in town. Live longer that way._

_VIN: [to Buck] You with us?_  
  
 _BUCK: [to Chris] Is he with you?_  
  
 _Chris nods._

 

He'd tried to put distance between them. Buck was, at heart, the worst of the 'do-gooders', sure that he owed Chris for that night in Mexico, sure that he could find a way to atone for something that had nothing to do with him at all.

 

Months back, Chris had ridden out of town – he couldn't recall the name of the town – just before dawn, knowing that Buck was still abed with some woman he'd worry on far longer if Chris wasn't around to make him feel this unnecessary 'penance'.

 

It hadn't been easy. For a long time now, Buck had been his conscience, his direction. Buck had carried the weight of the guilt Chris couldn't bring himself to feel. But when it had come, when all he could do was think about how much he had failed, he couldn't let Buck keep taking that blame.

 

He had tried to explain, to let Buck know that it wasn't his fault, but Buck couldn't be placated. And Chris couldn't stand to hear the idea that someone else might have been involved. He had lost his wife and his child and his life. No matter how much he loved Buck – and he did, he had known Buck for far to long to pretend otherwise – the decision had been his, that night so very long ago.

 

But Buck was here now, and he was willing to talk. Maybe willing to ride. People needed him, people who were deserving.

 

So now he had two of them, - hell, three of them, counting the hearler, three do-gooders ready to save a small part of the world.

 

His stomach roiled.

 

*&*&*&*

 

_CHRIS: [low voice] First shot was louder than the other five._  
  
 _EZRA: What are you attempting to suggest?_  
  
 _CHRIS: The first bullet was real. The rest were blanks._  
  
 _Ezra looks at him._  
  
 _EZRA: [low voice] Well, sir, I abhor gambling and as such leave nothing to chance._  
  
 _CHRIS: We're looking for guns to protect an Indian village. You interested?_  
  
 _EZRA: Who's financing?_  
  
 _CHRIS: The village. Five dollars a man._  
  
 _He shows Ezra the amulet._  
  
 _EZRA: [laughs] Five dollars? It wouldn't even pay for my bullets. [indicates Nathan] Would, uh, would he be riding with you?_  
  
 _Chris nods._  
  
 _EZRA: Not interested._

 

They ended up at dinner together, at the town's one restaurant. The place was crowded, mostly with men, so it didn't seem odd to him at all that he was crowded at a table between Buck and Vin.

 

"So, got four of us," Buck said as he pushed his plate away. "Think we can handle it?"

 

"Five," Chris corrected, finishing off the last of his cornbread. Food was pretty good here, better than what he was used to as of late.

 

"Five?" Buck asked.

 

"Guy from the saloon," Chris said after he swallowed. "We'll see him in the morning."

 

"Didn't see like he was right interested," Buck said with a chuckle.

 

Before Chris could answer, Tanner spoke up, his voice low but clear. "He'll be there. He needs protection getting out of town. Best place is in a group of men like us. And he's desperate for money. Five dollars may not pay for his bullets, but it'll pay for enough."

 

Chris turned to look at the younger man, trying not to smile. It felt good to have someone beside him who thought like he did – someone who understood other men the way he did.

 

"You two sure are confident," Buck said, but he shrugged, accepting. As he always did.

 

He shrugged the next morning when, as expected, the man in the red jacket rode up as they were getting ready to leave.

 

*&*&*&*&

 

_NATHAN: What does that mean?_  
  
 _Josiah mounts his horse._  
  
 _JOSIAH: Death._  
  
 _NATHAN: Whose?_  
  
 _JOSIAH: Probably mine._  
  
 _EZRA: [chuckles] Well, well, a sense of humor. I look forward to many lively conversations._  
  
 _He tips his hat to Josiah, who returns the gesture with a smile._  
  
 _NATHAN: What about all this?_  
  
 _JOSIAH: Oh, these stones will still be here--if I get back._  
  
 _Vin offers Josiah his hand and they shake._  
  
 _VIN: We can use another good man._  
  
 _JOSIAH: Not so good, but I can fight._

 

Chris nodded. They were six now, not as many as he'd wanted but maybe enough. And Sanchez did look like he was no stranger to violence.

 

It wasn't lost on Chris that for all of Nathan's attempts to get the man there, it was Vin that Sanchez turned to first. It also wasn't lost on him a while later that the man was a man of God – or had been. Another do-gooder, this one with a Bible to thump. What the hell was he doing?

 

What the hell, indeed?

 

*&*&*&**

 

_JD: [to Chris, indicating Buck] He'd be dead right now if it weren't for me._  
  
 _BUCK: You damn near shot my ear off._  
  
 _JD: But I didn't, did I? I saved your life, twice. [to Chris] Twice!_  
  
 _BUCK: You think I couldn't handle him?_  
  
 _He pulls one of JD's pistols from his holster._  
  
 _BUCK: Don't ever use the butt of your gun as a weapon. You keep smacking it around, before long, it's gonna misfire. And another thing. Get rid of this damn, stupid hat!_  
  
 _He throws JD's hat onto the ground and kicks dirt on it. Vin and Ezra, flanking Chris, laugh._  
  
 _BUCK: Get rid of this hat, boy!_  
  
 _VIN: [laughs] What Buck means is, "Thanks," kid._  
  
 _JD: [to Chris] I just wanna prove to you that I can--_  
  
 _CHRIS: Save it. If you wanna die young, stay._  
  
 _JD: Yes!_

 

Chris stared at the kid – the kid. The kid! He'd never been this young. Well, physically, maybe, but to believe that being here when the bullets started flying, being here with things fell apart – no, he couldn't remember a time that he had been this stupid.

 

And again, it had been Tanner who had welcomed the kid in first, putting words in Buck's mouth, telling the kid he had done good – which, Goddammit all, the kid had.

 

But that didn't give Tanner the right to put the kid's life in danger. To get him all fired up for some thing that would get the kid killed.

 

He turned to glare at Tanner, but as he did, he noticed the way those blue eyes caught the light, the way he grinned as he watched Buck chasing after JD. Tanner himself wasn't all that old, not physically. A world of difference between him and JD, but – still.

 

Chris looked back in time see Buck kicking sand toward the younger man, but everyone was laughing. And despite himself, he was amused too.

 

*&*&*&*&

 

_Chris and Vin are sitting alone. Vin has a spyglass and is surveying the area._  
  
 _VIN: There's a little backwater town up in the Texas panhandle. Tascosa. Flatter'n a felt-covered poker table. You know it?_  
  
 _CHRIS: Heard of it._  
  
 _VIN: If I wind up getting killed, take my body back there. You'll get five hundred for it._  
  
 _CHRIS: How come you're so valuable?_  
  
 _VIN: Well, when the buffalo done run out, I became a bounty hunter. I was going after Eli Joe, a bandit who'd shot up a few banks. Two hundred dollar reward, alive or dead, and I found him dead, took the body in. Except it wasn't him. Old Eli had framed me up for murder. Since I didn't do it, I decided not to stick around for the hanging. Wound up with a hefty bounty on my own head. So I figure, if a friend collects, I get the last laugh._  
  
 _Chris smiles. Vin surveys the land through his spyglass again._

"If I live through this," Tanner said softly, his words barely loud enough to hear, "figure I'll head back there, try to get this cleared up. I've been trying to find that son of bitch, Eli Joe, but he's better than I guess I'll ever be. He's stayed one step ahead of me. And I don't aim to carry this bounty too long. There's always someone out there, someone like me, ready to collect." He lowered the spyglass, letting it rest against his thigh, but he didn't look to Chris.

 

Chris turned to look at the other man. Vin's profile was sharp against the grey tones of the sky, the setting sun casting the horizon in vague shadows. He looked strong and determined and full of the conviction that Chris had known once. 'Do-gooder' echoed through Chris' head, reminding him of how they had gotten here, of all the things that could be lost.

 

Of all the things Chris knew better than to do.

 

The words he heard next seemed to come from someone else, and he almost turned to see who else was there. Until he felt the salt of his own sweat on his tongue, felt the dryness in his throat as he spoke. "Best if you took someone else along, someone who the town don't know. Someone who can stand for you – and maybe drag your ass out of jail if it comes down to it."

 

Tanner didn't move for a time, and Chris wondered if he'd actually said the words out loud. Just as he was trying to decide if he should actually say them or be thankful he'd only imagined them, Vin turned and looked at him, staring straight into him. "If you mean that, then I reckon I'd be thankful for it. Didn't much cotton to the idea of being strung up."

 

Chris held the gaze, feeling it burn through his head. "Won't let that happen," he said, and any doubt he'd had burst into flame.

 

*&*&*&*&*

 

_EZRA: What about you, Mister Jackson? You, uh, willing to ride with an old Southern boy?_  
  
 _NATHAN: [smiles] I figured I'd stick around for a while, help these folks get things right._  
  
 _Ezra tips his hat to Nathan and Rain, then joins the other four riding out. Vin detours to pull a shred of the Confederate flag out of the tree._  
  
 _VIN: You shoot a cannon pretty well, pard._  
  
 _EZRA: Dreadful. I was trying to hit Anderson._  
  
 _In the village, Josiah walks up on his horse._  
  
 _NATHAN: Where you going? Get down off that horse. You lost too much blood, now. You're gonna die out there._  
  
 _JOSIAH: If that's what's meant to be._  
  
 _NATHAN: Your damn birds will get you soon enough. You don't have to go chasing after them._  
  
 _JOSIAH: You're a good man, Nathan._  
  
 _He rides slowly after the others._  
  
 _RAIN: Go._  
  
 _She puts Nathan's hat on his head._  
  
 _RAIN: I'll wait for you._  
  
 _Nathan kisses her, then mounts his horse and rides after Josiah. Chris and the others wait until Josiah and Nathan join them. The Seven ride forward abreast in a straight line for several yards until they turn to the left and relax the formation._

 

Chris looked back at the others, comfortable with them at his back. He knew he shouldn't be – it was only a short ride, all things considered, back to the town. From there, they'd go their separate ways, all but Vin, who he'd ride with while he could.

 

But they had worked well together. He was still angry with Ezra – had the man been doing his job, they might not have lost Imala. But then, it might have happened anyway. It was the nature of war – and hadn't he learned that the hard way?

 

And it didn't matter anyway. He'd be gone soon. Following Vin.

 

Though – if they rest of them came along too, well, that might be all right . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  



End file.
